


Abuse of Power

by sunstarunicorn



Series: Magical Flashpoint Side Stories [4]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Obscurials (Harry Potter), Obscurus (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Ever since finding out about magic, Team One has wondered why magic is a secret.  When Auror Wilkins turns up with a little girl, asking Team One to look after her, they discover that sometimes, secrets are the best way to protect the innocent.  A Magical Flashpoint Side Story





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows "At the Intersection of Magic and Technology" and comes before "Nobody Said Anything About Magic". This story is set before "Scorpio" (Flashpoint Pilot), so, sorry, Sam fans, but no Samtastic in this one.
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.
> 
> I'm posting this Side Story in honor of my first day at my new job on this 14th of August, _Anno Domini_ 2017.

Jules kept her attention on the sink, hoping her young guest would relax with Jules’ attention apparently elsewhere. The young girl was so meek and shy, cringing at the smallest things and horribly afraid of ‘breaking the rules’. Jules didn’t know little Lucy’s back story, but she was filling in most of the important details effortlessly.

“Can I help?”

Jules was careful not to react with more than a turned head and a smile for the little girl. “You want to help me wash the dishes?” she asked, a kindly note in her voice.

A solemn nod, from a face with eyes that were far too old for such a tiny girl.

The petite brunette considered. There wasn’t enough room for them both at the sink and she didn’t have a child-sized stool for Lucy to stand on anyway. But… “Okay, how about this,” Jules began, crouching down so that she and Lucy were on the same level. “I’ll wash the silverware and let you dry it. Does that sound good?”

Lucy studied her, searching for what, Jules wasn’t sure. “Plates?”

The constable took a tiny risk and gently flicked Lucy’s nose. “Have to leave something for _me_ to do,” she teased. “I’ll handle the plates.”

Lucy rubbed at her nose, surprise on her face. The surprise was swiftly buried and Lucy gave Jules another nod. “Okay, ma’am.”

“It’s Jules,” Jules corrected gently.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll work on that,” Jules decided, lifting the clean, but wet spoons out of the sink. “Get started on the spoons and I’ll give you the forks when you’re done.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jules watched Lucy out of the corner of her eye as she washed and dried the first plate, moving slower than usual to allow the small girl to keep pace. When Lucy was done with the spoons, she bundled them to the side and looked up. “I’m done, ma’am.”

“All right, give me a second and I’ll give you the forks.” Jules lifted the plate she’d been ‘washing’ for the past several minutes and turned around so she could set it down on the table. Just as Jules was reaching out, the plate slipped, tumbling down towards the floor.

An instant later, it froze in midair. Jules, in middle of a frantic snatch, stopped, blinking at the frozen plate. She slid one hand under the plate and grasped it, feeling the weight against her palm as she lifted it, as effortless as if she’d just picked it up off a counter. Quickly, Jules set the plate on the table and turned towards a petrified Lucy.

“Lucy?”

Frightened eyes lifted to Jules. “I broke the rules,” Lucy sobbed. “Not supposed to, not supposed to use demon power.”

_Demon power?_

“No, Lucy, you didn’t,” Jules countered at once, kneeling down next to the chair Lucy was sitting on. “You did great, you did really great. I promise you, you did not use demon power. I promise.”

Lucy stared at her, sniffling. “You don’t know. Momma says only demons can do what I do, so I must be a devil child.”

Jules reached out to comfort the girl, only to feel something lock her in place. She strained against the force holding her motionless, but it was futile. Lucy’s eyes widened in fear and she bolted. The force vanished. “Lucy!” Jules called, twisting around. “Lucy!”


	2. Arrogant Power

_3 hours earlier_

Jules sighed in relief; the shift was _over_. What should have been a simple warrant had turned into a four hour chase complete with a one hour standoff after one of the Guns ‘n’ Gangs guys had dropped the ball. She _hoped_ it hadn’t been Roy Lane or he was in for a screaming session with his angry older brother; Ed had been snarking _all_ afternoon over the ‘idiot’ who’d screwed up an ‘easy as cake’ warrant.

Rollie, who’d been forced to deal with the worst of the team leader’s temper, had clocked out as fast as possible, all but fleeing to keep from saying anything to Ed while both men were still fuming, if for different reasons.

Jules had just finished changing into her civilian clothes when someone knocked on her door. “Decent,” Jules called, still focusing on her locker and debating whether it was worth it to drag her uniform home; she _did_ have two spares she could use until she finished fixing the water pipe in her fixer-upper house.

In the mirror on her locker door, she saw Sarge poke his head in. “Jules, Inspector Wilkins just turned up with _mio nipotes_ and another young girl.”

“He wants our help _now_?” Jules couldn’t help but complain.

“I hear you, Jules; I’m tired, too.” It went without saying that Sarge was unhappy his kids had been dragged halfway across the city – okay, that was an exaggeration, but _still_ – simply because Team One’s ‘liaison’ was a prejudiced jerk.

“Be right there, Sarge,” Jules sighed, closing up her locker without taking her uniform.

She trailed out of her locker room, heading up the ramp to the briefing room with another soundless sigh. In the doorway to the briefing room, she paused; Lance and Alanna were bracketing an absolutely _tiny_ girl with dark red hair and large, frightened light brown eyes. Her hair was long, filthy, and tangled; Jules could already tell that it would have to be simply cut off and allowed to grow again and she was shocked the girl’s parents had let her hair get that bad. The little girl’s clothing was just as grubby and Jules dreaded to think of what the child’s undergarments looked like. Curiously, the little girl was curled as close to Alanna as she could get, almost hiding behind the pureblood from the men in the room.

Wordy’s eyes were locked on the little urchin, distress twisting his face and darkening his gray eyes; for the father of three little girls to see another little girl so obviously abused had to be tough. Sarge and _Auror_ Wilkins were arguing in the far corner of the briefing room; Jules could see the anger in Sarge’s expression, even though he was mostly turned away from the doorway. Ed was pacing in the other corner, so furious that Jules suspected he didn’t _trust_ himself near anyone else, not even his teammates. Spike and Lou, hovering behind Wordy, looked almost as distressed as Wordy, but neither had enough experience with children to feel confident _expressing_ that distress…not without frightening the poor child any more than she already had been.

Abruptly, the little girl turned, spotting Jules in the doorway. She shrank even more and that was when Jules had had enough. The brunette constable made her way over to the children and crouched, ignoring Lance and Alanna. “Hi there,” Jules greeted. “My name is Jules.” Extending an open hand and making her expression as inviting as she could, the constable finished, “What’s yours?”

Light brown eyes widened even more than they already had and the little girl ducked the other way before realizing that put her closer to the _men_. Faced with the choice between Jules and the men, she chose Jules, shyly and warily shuffling forward. “Lucy.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Jules remarked. “Is it short for anything?”

A shake of the head.

“Well, I’m glad to meet you, Lucy,” Jules told the little girl. “Have you met my teammates?”

Lucy glanced over at the men, then back at Jules, shaking her head vigorously.

“Do you want to?”

Another vigorous head shake.

Jules nodded, letting her sorrow show, but not pushing any more than that. “Okay.” Looking up, Jules noticed that Sarge and Wilkins had finished their ‘discussion’ and the group was waiting on her. “Listen, I have to go talk to my teammates and my boss, but I’m sure we can talk again soon, all right?”

Lucy looked down and Jules straightened up, pausing at the whisper-soft, “Okay.”

Jules gave Lucy a little smile, then forced herself to keep her pace steady and her shoulders relaxed as she walked over to her teammates and the hovering Auror. “Good work, Jules,” Sarge murmured, flicking his gaze past her to make sure she understood.

A smile curved Jules’ mouth for an instant, but the moment passed quickly. Looking up and meeting Auror Wilkins’ eyes, she arched one eyebrow and waited.

He drew a breath, puffing up in self-importance. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he began, arrogance sparking off of every word, “The Auror Division would appreciate it if you could look after young Miss Keane for a day or two.”

“Why us?” Ed growled, though the growl was more for form than anything else; one look at his eyes revealed the truth: he was hiding his parental anguish behind the anger.

A casual shrug. “She’s Muggleborn.” At the universal skeptical looks this statement earned, Auror Wilkins puffed himself up even more, anger glinting. “You lot _did_ want to help, right? To keep your memories of magic?”

It was a cruel card to play, but also an effective one. Even so, Jules wanted more information, if she could get it. “We haven’t said ‘no’,” she reminded the Auror. “But I’m thinking there’s more to this story than just ‘she’s Muggleborn’.” Murmurs of agreement came from her teammates; Jules crossed her arms and waited.

There was another flash of emotion in Auror Wilkins’ eyes, there and gone too fast to identify. He considered, his eyes flicking back and forth as he thought. “She’s afraid of us,” he finally announced gruffly. “I thought maybe she might be less afraid with you Muggles.”

Ah. So, Auror Wilkins wasn’t _quite_ as much of a jerk as he acted like. Sarge stepped in with a soft, “Okay, Auror Wilkins. We’ll figure something out for the next day or so. Do you have any idea of what we should keep a lookout for?”

The jerk was back as Wilkins snipped, “I’ve already informed Heir Calvin and his sister of the circumstances. Good evening.” Without another word, Wilkins strode out of the room and vanished towards the door.

Left alone, Team One regarded each other and the three children near the door for several seconds. Lou and Spike looked the most unnerved by the turn of events, but Jules was studying little Lucy Keane. The little girl was watching all of the adults, but her gaze, surprisingly, was most intent on where the men of Team One were at all times. Particularly Ed and Wordy.

“Jules,” Sarge called, pulling her attention back to the team. “We don’t know all the details, but I think it’s fairly obvious that Lucy isn’t going to be comfortable with any of us.”

“She’s afraid of men,” Wordy rumbled angrily.

Spike fidgeted, then piped up. “Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like she’s the least afraid of Jules and Lou.”

Lou’s alarm produced a tiny squeak before he managed, “Me? Why me?”

Jules rolled her eyes while Spike smacked his best friend’s arm. “Lou, you’re darker skinned and _I’m_ a woman. That makes us different from whoever abused her.” She drew a breath. “But I’m thinking I’m probably the best choice, right, Sarge?”

Sarge nodded once. “I’m afraid so, Jules. If it’s ‘men’ that she’s afraid of, then it won’t matter that Lou has darker skin, he’s still committed the cardinal sin of being male.” The responding snickers were weak, but the point was made.

“One other thing,” Ed drawled, rubbing the back of his head. “I hate to put any more on Jules, but that girl _needs_ new clothes.”

“Seconded,” Jules agreed quickly. “I think her current set needs to find a new home.” _In the trash._ “I’m sure there are a couple stores still open, so I’ll get her new clothes on our way home.”

Surprisingly, it was Spike who pulled his wallet out first. “I can pitch in,” he offered.

Almost before Jules knew quite what was happening, all of her teammates had forked over cash to buy Lucy new clothes. Blinking at the bills in her hands, Jules opened her mouth to say that they’d given her too much, but made the mistake of looking up at five pleading pairs of eyes. She snapped her mouth shut without saying a word and carefully smoothed out the money, folding it up and tucking it away in her purse.

Lance and Alanna drew back and out of the way as Jules walked over and knelt in front of Lucy. The little girl regarded Jules with a hint of fear, but stayed stock still and silent. “Lucy, would you like to stay with me for the next day or so while Auror Wilkins sets a few things up?”

Lucy’s surprise at being _asked_ her opinion made Jules’ heart ache. Silence draped the room as Lucy studied Jules closely. The answer was so soft that only the room’s utter silence allowed it to be heard. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s Jules.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Giving up on the losing proposition, Jules inclined her head and stood up, offering one hand to the little girl. “Okay, then. We have one stop to make and then I’ll take you to my house.”

Lucy stared at the outstretched hand, confusion twisting her face. Alanna stepped forward and whispered something, earning a nod as Lucy hesitantly reached up and took Jules’ hand.


	3. Fearful Power

Jules found a towel in her trunk for Lucy to sit on; the little girl’s clothes were so grubby that Jules was halfway tempted to see if she could finagle the girl into her uniform – or maybe change back into her uniform and let Lucy use her street clothes, but Lucy was just too small for that. The constable put the towel in place, then turned to Lucy, reaching out; Lucy tensed, but let Jules lift her into the seat and fasten the seat belt.

“Okay, Lucy,” Jules remarked, backing out of her parking spot, “Next stop, the mall.”

* * * * *

Jules kept a light grip on Lucy’s hand as she entered the midsized department store and angled for the children’s section. Her stride was confident until the pair actually entered the children’s section and then Jules realized she wasn’t quite sure how to go about figuring out which clothes would be best for the tiny girl.

“May I help you?” Jules turned to see a matronly woman in a store uniform; the woman had black hair done up in a bun, a gentle smile, and a sparkle in her dark eyes.

Jules smiled back at the clerk. “Yes, please.” Indicating Lucy, she added, “We need a few sets of new clothes.”

“And shoes?” the clerk pressed.

_Shoes?_ Jules’ brow furrowed and she automatically looked down at Lucy’s feet; a flush rose to her cheeks that neither she, nor Sarge, nor any of her other teammates had noticed Lucy’s lack of footwear. “Um, yeah, guess we do need shoes and socks,” Jules confirmed, squirming a little at the clerk’s narrow-eyed look.

The clerk took a closer look at Lucy and stiffened. Even before the dark eyes whipped up to Jules, Jules could guess where this situation was going. With her free hand, Jules dug in her purse and located her wallet. The clerk opened her mouth to verbally rip Jules to pieces, then froze as Jules flipped her wallet open, revealing the badge hidden inside.

“I appreciate that you’re willing to speak up, ma’am,” Jules remarked, allowing both approval and sadness in her voice. “I’m afraid Lucy’s situation is a bit in flux at the moment and she’s staying with me until we can find her a new home.” Taking a deep breath, Jules added, “So, um, if you wouldn’t mind helping us out…?”

“No kids of your own?” the clerk asked curiously.

“Not yet,” Jules admitted, flushing again.

The clerk looked between the badge and a confused Lucy Keane, the smile coming back. “I’d be delighted to help, Constable. This way, please. I think young Lucy might be a bit less overwhelmed if we keep to the plain things for now.”

Jules nodded, nudging Lucy after the clerk. That was a good point; they didn’t want to overload the little girl with too many new things. “You’ve done this before?”

“Not exactly, but I have a neighbor who works with abused children. You pick up a thing or two that way.” The clerk glanced back, her eyes shrewd. “Your first time?”

“Yes.” It _was_ rather obvious, so Jules saw no point in denying it. “It’s a bit of a learning curve, isn’t it?”

“Always is, my dear,” the clerk chuckled, stopping at a rack with good, but plain clothing. Jules could tell the clothing was well made, but the solid colors would hopefully be a bit less overwhelming for poor Lucy. “Now, let’s see what we can find for you, Lucy,” the clerk said to the little girl, smiling brightly at her.

* * * * *

Jules coaxed Lucy into her bathtub, grateful that although parts of the water system still needed fixing, the bath/shower was working just fine. As was the water heater; Jules had a feeling she’d need all the hot water and then some.

Lucy gazed up at the constable, her eyes fearful and uncertain. Jules turned the water on, testing it with one finger to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold before sliding the plug down. Lucy scampered back in the tub at first, staring at the water as if it would bite her at the first opportunity. “Not supposed to,” she protested. “Baths aren’t for freaks.”

“Well, _I_ don’t see any freaks here,” Jules replied, her voice matter-of-fact, even as internally, she seethed. “So come on now, let’s get you washed up, Lucy.”

The redhead’s eyes shot up to Jules, wide and plaintive. For several long seconds, they stared at each other, then Lucy yelped in surprise as the water lapped at her. “It’s warm.”

“Yes, it is,” Jules murmured, reaching in to start scrubbing the grubby urchin down. “This is going to take awhile, Lucy, but you’ll feel much better once you’re clean, I promise.”

It wasn’t easy; Lucy cringed at every new thing that came into her line of sight and hunched her shoulders, fear all but oozing from her. Jules, armed with a kid-friendly soap that the friendly store clerk had pointed her to, patiently scrubbed at every centimeter of the little girl. The first bath turned dark before Jules was done, so the constable pulled the plug up and let the dirty water drain away. Lucy started shivering, but Jules quickly turned the hot water on to refill the tub. Jules left Lucy’s hair for last, suspecting that it would take the longest overall; she still had to talk Lucy into letting her cut most of it off.

“Okay, we’re getting there, Lucy, but there’s one last thing.”

Lucy looked up, a budding trust in her eyes; she hadn’t ginned up enough trust to splash at Jules, but there was more trust than there had been at the start of the bath. “What’s that, ma’am?”

“It’s Jules.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jules buried her sigh and forged ahead. “Your hair, Lucy. It’s so clumped and tangled that I think we’re going to have to just…cut it all off and let it grow back out.”

“My hair?” Lucy almost whimpered, her eyes wide and pleading.

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” Jules replied. “It will come back; that’s what hair does, you know. By the time it grows back, you’ll have someone to help you keep it nice, clean, and untangled.”

“Will it be you, ma’am?”

She didn’t want to lie, so Jules shook her head. “Probably not, Lucy.” The constable rested one hand on Lucy’s back, adding, “I don’t know everything that happened today, Lucy, but I promise you, things are going to get better for you. Now, may I have your permission to cut your hair?”

Two sets of brown eyes met, the older set waiting patiently and the younger set searching for something. It seemed to take forever, but Lucy finally nodded and hung her head, sniffling as Jules cautiously snipped her way through the tangled, wiry hair.

It took three full haircuts before Jules was satisfied she’d gotten the worst of the mess. Unfortunately, since Jules was no hairdresser, Lucy’s hair was uneven and haphazard at best, along with still being rather dirty. Jules couldn’t fix her own mess, but she _could_ wash the results; as gently as possible, Jules rubbed the kid shampoo into Lucy’s remaining locks of hair. Instead of washing Lucy’s hair under the bath faucet, Jules stood up and retrieved the shower head. Lucy was startled by the water coming from above, but held still as Jules washed the shampoo out of her hair.

Surveying the results, Jules turned the water off again and pulled the bath tub plug up to let the once again dirty water out of the tub. The constable was also grateful she’d thought to pull out her heavy-duty hair trap; it would save her the trouble of clogged pipes. “Okay, almost done,” she told Lucy as she watched the last of the water run through the hair trap. Careful to not let the hair spill out of the trap, Jules pulled up the trap and gingerly cleaned it out into her bathroom trash can. Once the worst of the hair was out, Jules replaced the trap and turned the water on for a third time. She gave Lucy the soap, encouraging the little girl to clean up one last time while she handled Lucy’s hair. It took two more shampooings, but Lucy’s hair, while still a dark red, finally started to shine in the bathroom’s light.

With the bath over, Jules helped Lucy out and pulled the fresh towel she’d set on the counter down to Lucy’s level. “All right, start drying off while I deal with your clothes,” Jules instructed, ducking back into the tub to grab the hair trap. The constable took the trap, her trash can, and the worn, grubby clothes down one level and dumped the clothes into her larger trash can. The contents of the smaller trash can followed the clothes and Jules painstakingly emptied the hair trap out, before setting it aside to dry out and finish later. The constable washed her hands, then snatched up the bag from the department store and headed back upstairs to Lucy.

* * * * *

The new clothes prompted a near battle, much to Jules’ surprise; Lucy’s terror reappeared with a vengeance at the news that the clothes from the department store were _hers_. And if the clothes prompted a battle, the shoes prompted a rebellion; Lucy flat out refused to wear the shoes, cringing and cowering even as she refused.

In the end, Jules accepted the refusal, deciding that she’d probably pushed Lucy a bit too far out of her comfort zone. What she and her teammates found appalling, Lucy saw as normal – a horrid, wretched normal, but normal nonetheless. For Lucy, a bath and new clothes were so far out of her comfort zone that they were off the map; Jules had been lucky the little girl hadn’t rebelled until now. So, with a sigh, Jules put the new shoes back in their box and ushered Lucy downstairs to the kitchen. After settling Lucy at the table in a no-nonsense fashion, Jules rummaged through her refrigerator, scowling as she spotted a few out of date items. One was so far gone that Jules simply tossed it, but the other items, though clearly on the edge, were still good.

Jules pulled all of the cartons out and set them on the table. “Okay, Lucy, what would you like for dinner? Looks like we have our choice between soup, lasagna, or sandwiches tonight.”

Lucy eyed the items rather doubtfully, then offered up a tentative, “Soup?”

“Soup sounds good, but there’s not much left,” Jules remarked, checking the container. “How about I put the lasagna out too and if we’re still hungry after that, we can have sandwiches. Does that sound all right?”

“Okay,” Lucy replied, bobbing her head. “Where do I eat?”

Jules determinedly slapped a smile on her face. “Right here at the table, Lucy.”

Lucy gave her a stunned look, eyes wide. “But that’s against the rules! No freaks at the table, Momma says so.”

“I don’t see any freaks here, Lucy,” Jules replied, unable to keep the edge of anger out of her voice. Though it wasn’t aimed at Lucy, the anger meant Lucy immediately hunched in on herself, watching Jules warily. The little girl offered not another peep in protest, something Jules might have celebrated if she hadn’t just inadvertently intimidated the child into silence. With a soft, barely heard sigh, Jules turned to preparing and serving dinner.

* * * * *

After dinner, Jules kept her attention on the sink, hoping her young guest would relax with Jules’ attention apparently elsewhere. Dinner had been rather stiff with Lucy cringing at the smallest things and horribly afraid of ‘breaking the rules’. Jules didn’t know little Lucy’s back story, but she was filling in most of the important details effortlessly. If she _ever_ got half a chance to _express_ her displeasure with Lucy’s parents – the sniper cut off that line of thought, deciding instead to focus on her after-dinner routine.

“Can I help?”

Jules was careful not to react with more than a turned head and a smile for Lucy. “You want to help me wash the dishes?” she asked, a kindly note in her voice.

A solemn nod, from a face with eyes that were far too old for such a tiny girl.

The petite brunette considered. There wasn’t enough room for them both at the sink and she didn’t have a child-sized stool for Lucy to stand on anyway. But… “Okay, how about this,” Jules began, crouching down so that she and Lucy were on the same level. “I’ll wash the silverware and let you dry it. Does that sound good?”

Lucy studied her, searching for what, Jules wasn’t sure. “Plates?”

The constable took a tiny risk and gently flicked Lucy’s nose. “Have to leave something for _me_ to do,” she teased. “I’ll handle the plates.”

Lucy rubbed at her nose, surprise on her face. The surprise was swiftly buried and Lucy gave Jules another nod. “Okay, ma’am.”

“It’s Jules,” Jules corrected gently, though she doubted it would do any good yet.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll work on that,” Jules sighed, lifting the clean, but wet spoons out of the sink. “Get started on the spoons and I’ll give you the forks when you’re done.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jules watched Lucy out of the corner of her eye as she washed and dried the first plate, moving slower than usual to allow the small girl to keep pace. When Lucy was done with the spoons, she bundled them to the side and looked up. “I’m done, ma’am.”

“All right, give me a second and I’ll give you the forks.” Jules lifted the plate she’d been ‘washing’ for the past several minutes and turned around so she could set it down on the table. Just as Jules was reaching out to set the plate down, it slipped out of her fingers, tumbling down towards the floor.

An instant later, it froze in midair. Jules, in middle of a frantic snatch, stopped, blinking at the frozen plate. She slid one hand under the plate and grasped it, feeling the weight against her palm as she lifted it, as effortless as if she’d just picked it up off a counter. Quickly, Jules set the plate on the table and turned towards a petrified Lucy.

“Lucy?”

Frightened eyes lifted to Jules. “I broke the rules,” Lucy sobbed. “Not supposed to, not supposed to use demon power.”

_Demon power?_

“No, Lucy, you didn’t,” Jules countered at once, kneeling down next to the chair Lucy was sitting on. “You did great, you did really great. I promise you, you did not use demon power. I promise.”

Lucy stared at her, sniffling. “You don’t know. Momma says only demons can do what I do, so I must be a devil child.”

Jules reached out to comfort the girl, only to feel something lock her in place. She strained against the force holding her motionless, but it was futile. Lucy’s eyes widened in fear and she bolted. The force vanished. “Lucy!” Jules called, twisting around. “Lucy!”

* * * * *

It didn’t take long to find the little girl, huddled up and rocking as she hid behind Jules’ couch. Wary of provoking more accidental magic, Jules didn’t try to reach in and pull the young girl out. Instead, Jules sat where Lucy could see her and waited patiently.

It didn’t take long for Lucy to peek up and offer a meek, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Jules inquired, excruciatingly careful to keep even the slightest _whisper_ of anger out of her voice.

“I don’t _mean_ to let the demon power out,” Lucy whimpered, “It just comes out on its own.”

“Are you sure it’s demon power?” Jules asked, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t think demons catch plates, do you?”

“Momma says it’s demon power,” Lucy replied. “Momma says, if I pray real hard, maybe God will take the demon power away and Momma and Dadda can have a good girl, not a devil child.”

“Well, what if God is the one who gave you this power in the first place? Hmmm? _I’ve_ always heard that God’s the one who gives us our talents, so what if this is just a talent that _you_ have?”

Lucy frowned, rocking back and forth. “Then why Momma mad at me all the time?” Tears filled the little girl’s eyes. “Why don’t they love me?”

“Oh, sweetie, I wish I knew,” Jules whispered. “They can call you what they want, Lucy, but all _I_ see is a talented little girl who’s going to do amazing things someday. Come here.”

Lucy stared up at Jules, her eyes wide at the fact that Jules wasn’t turning on her. Jules held still, except for her arms, which she’d opened for a hug. Then Lucy charged forward, burying her head in Jules’ chest as she sobbed. Jules let the child cry herself out, rocking her and stroking her hair as she murmured reassurances.


	4. Protective Power

Jules led Lucy back into the barn, glancing around hopefully for her teammates. Sally, behind the dispatcher’s desk, waved her over. “Hi, Sally,” Jules greeted, smiling at the other woman. “Hey, could you keep an eye on Lucy while I change into my uniform?”

“Sure thing, Jules,” Sally agreed, giving Lucy an encouraging look as Jules shepherded the girl around the desk. “Hi there, Lucy, I’m Sally.”

“Hello ma’am,” Lucy replied gravely, before she looked back up at Jules. “Are you coming back?”

Jules knelt. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Lucy,” she promised. “Sally will look after you until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

* * * * *

Jules bit her lip, wondering how to handle Lucy in a room full of men; today there was no Lance or Alanna to act as buffers and Sarge needed to know everything she’d found out about Lucy’s home life. Finally, Jules decided to go for blunt honesty. She led Lucy into the briefing room and got her situated on a chair. “Lucy, do you remember the guys from last night? The ones I was talking to before we left?”

Lucy looked up, fear flashing across her face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, those men are my teammates and they’re going to come in soon. I know you didn’t want to meet them last night, but today you have to.”

“I do?”

Jules nodded. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to be right beside you all the time today, Lucy, but I need to know that if I can’t be here, you can trust my teammates.”

“But what if they’re like Dadda?”

“They aren’t, I promise,” Jules soothed at once. “Lucy, I know you’re scared and I know you’re being pushed into so many new situations. I know that. But the guys I work with, they would never, _ever_ hurt you, understand? I know you don’t believe me, but I need to know that you’re willing to trust me and them.”

“Why?”

Jules sighed. “Because, Lucy, if something happens – and I’m not saying anything will, okay? – I need to know that you’d go with my teammates without arguing or running away from them.”

“Like if my demon power comes out?”

“Lucy, what did we agree on this morning?” Jules inquired, putting a tiny amount of sternness in her voice.

Lucy ducked her head. “No more calling it demon power,” she parroted. She glanced up, her eyes a touch pleading. “But what _do_ I call it?”

“Oops, guess I forgot that part, didn’t I?” Jules admitted sheepishly. “Lucy, what you’re using…it’s magic.”

“Like in the stories?”

“Which stories are those?” Jules asked suspiciously, not willing to simply agree.

Lucy’s eyes dropped. “Momma reads me stories about witches and how they all do bad things and hurt people.”

Gently, Jules tipped Lucy’s head up. “Lucy, your magic isn’t _anything_ like those stories. I’ll see if I can find some better stories for you to read, all right?”

“Okay.”

“Now, will you give my teammates a chance?” Jules watched as Lucy screwed up her courage and nodded. “Thank you, Lucy,” Jules murmured, glancing over her shoulder at her teammates hovering in the doorway. “Guys, one at a time. Come meet Lucy.”

* * * * *

At the serious and faintly grim expression on her Sergeant’s face, Jules decided to usher Lucy back to Sally, promising Lucy that she’d come back after she and her teammates had their meeting. “Please don’t leave me,” Lucy pleaded, tugging at Jules’ sleeve and looking like she wanted nothing more than to cling to Jules like a child-sized monkey.

Jules knelt so she and Lucy were on the same level. “Lucy, I know you’re scared, but I’m not abandoning you. Sometimes, adults do what I’m doing right now because they need to talk about subjects that you’re not old enough to hear about.”

An actual scowl flitted across Lucy’s face. “You’re going to talk about me,” she accused.

“We might,” Jules admitted freely. “But we also might talk about people you don’t know and you’ve never heard of.”

Lucy considered this argument, thinking hard. Then she nodded, staring at the floor. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“I’m not mad at you, Lucy,” Jules soothed. “Now, stay with Sally and do what she tells you to do, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jules traded a slightly discouraged look with Sally and pushed herself up. “See you soon, Lucy.”

Without waiting for a reply, she headed back to the briefing room and quickly found her seat. “Sorry about that, Sarge.”

“No, not at all, Jules,” Sarge countered, a smile flashing across his face. “You’re doing great with her. Now, how’d last night go?”

The sniper couldn’t repress her grimace at the question, but, gamely, she reported on everything she’d observed, as well as the fact that Lucy was still refusing to wear her new shoes. The hardest thing to relate was Lucy’s reaction to her own magic; Jules didn’t have any kids of her own, but for a _parent_ to teach their own child that their talents were _evil_ …it was utterly appalling and Jules hated it.

When she was done, Jules found herself staring at the table, unwilling to meet either her Sergeant’s or her teammates’ eyes. Surprisingly, it was Ed who spoke next, not Sarge. “What’d the kids tell you last night, Greg?”

At Sarge’s heavy sigh, Jules glanced up, startled when she took in just how _old_ Sarge looked; he leaned forward, bracing both elbows on the table, the look in his eyes aching and sorrowful. “They filled in a number of details, both about young Lucy’s situation and some of the history behind why the magical world originally chose to go underground.”

“They’re connected?” Spike questioned, confusion in both his voice and his eyes.

“Not directly, no, but unfortunately, Lucy is hardly the first young magical to be treated badly for her magic,” was the solemn reply. Parker let that hang for an instant before continuing. “According to _mio nipotes_ , if magical children are taught to hate their own magic, they tend to lose control of their magic.”

“Lose control?” Lou echoed, frowning at the tidbit. “What, they can’t use wands or something like that?”

Parker shook his head, expression going sadder and grimmer. “No, Lou, worse than that.” He stopped, fumbling for the words, then drew in a breath. “I’m not sure how to explain, so I’ll just tell you guys what _mio nipotes_ said.” Closing his eyes, the Sergeant’s brow furrowed as he called up his memories of the night before.

* * * * *

_“Auror Wilkins told us she’s right on the edge of becoming an Obscurial,” Lance reported sadly. Correctly reading his uncle’s look, he elaborated, “An Obscurial is a witch or wizard – almost always under ten – whose magic is suppressed due to abuse, either physical or emotional.”_

_“Under ten?” Greg inquired, focusing on that part because it was easier, though he frowned; his_ nipotes _had_ just _gotten done telling him that Lucy had just turned eleven._

_Alanna shivered. “Yes, sir,” she whispered. “That’s because they usually don’t live very long.”_

_Greg felt his jaw give way. “Don’t_ live _very long?”_

_Lance’s voice was low, meek, and miserable. “Most Obscurials die before their tenth birthdays, but there’ve been a few exceptions…and those exceptions are magically strong enough that when they_ do _die, they usually take other people with them.”_

_“And that’s not even counting the property damage,” Alanna tacked on. “ ‘Cause you can’t get rid of magic, not_ really _. You can suppress it and lock it away, but you can’t get rid of it. For Obscurials, their magic becomes an Obscurus.” A harsh swallow. “An Obscurus appears when an Obscurial reaches their breaking point. Could be emotional, could be physical.”_

_“A breaking point,” Greg murmured, thinking fast. “Their flashpoint.” At the startled looks he got, he forced a tiny smile. “What you’re describing almost sounds like these Obscurials reach a point where the least little bit of ‘ignition’ sets them off.”_

_The siblings traded surprised looks that slowly morphed to considering expressions. “Never heard it put quite like that before,” Lance drawled, “But that’s…a lot easier to understand, isn’t it?” The teenager nodded to himself, muttering, “Makes sense.”_

_He looked vaguely embarrassed, but Greg didn’t see why, particularly with his creeping suspicion. “And how_ often _do abused magical children reach a point of becoming an…Obscurial?”_

_Another set of traded looks and Alanna fielded the question. “Depending on who you ask, the last confirmed Obscurial was seen, well, um…either over 200 years ago or during 1926 in New York.”_

_Greg’s eyebrows shot up at that and he couldn’t help his low whistle. “So they’re rare?” That was a relief…the fact that some magical children were abused badly enough to become Obscurials at all was disturbing…at least it didn’t happen very often. But… “We’re talking about extreme abuse, aren’t we?”_

_Miserable nods._

_Brown eyes narrowed, reaching the next conclusion in what felt like a flash of lightning. “And Wilkins thinks Lucy might_ be _an Obscurial?”_

_More nods._

_“All right, then,” Greg rumbled, forcing his anger back. “How do we help her?”_

* * * * *

“Treat it like a negotiation?” Spike suggested, leaning forward. He flashed a infinitesimal grin at his teammates. “Hey, guys, we talk down people all the time. Why can’t this be just like that?”

“We’re dealing with a situation that’s been going on for _years_ ,” Wordy pointed out, though not as a discouragement. It was more like he was raising a critical factor for the upcoming… _negotiation_. “She’s not going to automatically believe us.”

Lou cleared his throat, looking a trifle glum. “Not to mention, we still have to keep magic secret from everyone else.”

“So we keep her with us until Wilkins drags himself in here to help out,” Ed growled, his eyes flashing at his own mention of the Auror.

“Cut the growling,” Wordy remarked to the air, pointedly looking away from his best friend. As the weight of the team leader’s glare fell on the brunet, he smirked at no one in particular. “Ed, you’re going to scare her off if she thinks you’re mad at her.”

Although Wordy was right, Ed scowled even deeper, before giving it up as a bad job; Wordy wasn’t looking, so, sadly, Ed couldn’t glare the other constable into the ground. “Anything else?” he barked, daring the _rest_ of the team to speak up when he was in a bad mood.

“Yeah, actually,” Lou piped up. “If her magic’s not under control, how do we handle any, um, ah…”

“Accidental magic?” Jules threw out.

“Yeah, that,” Lou agreed, rubbing the back of his head and looking sheepish.

All eyes shifted back to their Sergeant as he tapped the table. “Aside from reinforcing Jules’ argument with Lucy that she isn’t using any kind of demonic power, treat it as nothing out of the ordinary.” Brown eyes darkened. “I think we’re _all_ in over our heads with this one, but I, for one, am not giving up on this little girl without a fight.”

“Copy that, Sarge,” Jules agreed firmly, before cocking her head to the side. “Sarge, how did Lucy’s situation get caught? If this has been going on for years, what changed?”

Sarge’s expression turned sheepish and more than a bit chagrined at his inadvertent omission. “She turned eleven this week,” he explained.

“She turned eleven?” Jules echoed, confused. “What difference does that make?”

“Eleven is when wizards start their schooling,” the Sergeant informed his teammates. “It’s also the first time that the wizarding world reaches out to tech-borns and their families. So, a teacher from the Toronto School of Magic visited the Keanes to deliver Lucy’s invitation.”

“And caught the abuse,” Wordy concluded, his voice hard.

“That’s about the size of it, Wordy,” Sarge agreed. “Wilkins didn’t give _mio nipotes_ any details, but I suspect the teacher had to call in the Aurors in order to safely remove Lucy from the Keane home.”

“Then why have _us_ look after Lucy?” Jules questioned. “I mean, I don’t mind, but surely this isn’t the _first_ time they’ve run into abuse.”

Sarge rubbed his head. “Auror Wilkins assumed that Lucy’s problem was with magic,” he reminded his constables, earning a slight nod from Jules. “Even with _mio nipotes_ , he was sketchy on the details, but he _did_ mention that the parents managed to evade arrest.”

“So the Aurors are trying to catch them,” Ed growled, his eyes hardening.

“Yes, Eddie, they are,” Parker confirmed.

After a few moments’ silence, the Sergeant moved on. “Okay, assignments,” Parker decided, leaning forward. “Lewis, Spike, I want you two to start pulling what you can on Lucy Keane’s parents. No reason we can’t help with the abuse case against them.”

“Copy,” the two men chorused, determination glinting in both sets of eyes.

“Ed, Wordy, see if you can get Lucy to relax a bit around you both,” Parker ordered. “She’s nervous around all of us men, but she seems to be most on edge around the two of you. Let’s see if we can put together a few more pieces on that.”

“You got it, Boss,” Ed rumbled; beside him, Wordy nodded sharply.

“Jules, keep doing what you’ve been doing and see if you can convince her to either wear her new shoes or tell you why she won’t.”

“Copy, Sarge,” Jules murmured, already debating a few strategies. “What about you?”

The team earned a tired smile. “I’m going to come up with a way to explain what Lucy’s _real_ problem is to Auror Wilkins.”

* * * * *

When Ed looked back on the incident, it was less of a surprise to him than it had been at the time. They had all known that Lucy was afraid of men in general and appeared to be warier with taller men in particular, so that her magic slipped out around him was not, in hindsight, all that surprising.

What _was_ surprising turned out to be the magic itself. The kids’ descriptions of their own accidental magic days tended to be tales of how this item had changed color or that toy had flown off a table or shelf to its owner. The most extreme thing that had ever happened, the kids claimed, was the time their mother had taken them to a park near their home and a shifty wizard attempted to lure Alanna away. Lance, from the other side of the park, managed to apparate to his sister’s side _and_ create a magical shield until their mother arrived to the rescue.

Juvenile rescue missions aside, Team One had gotten the impression that most accidental magic was, on the whole, rather tame and harmless. Nothing to be concerned about or take precautions against. Then, during lunch, Lucy, sitting between Ed and Lou, realized that Jules wasn’t in the room and promptly panicked. The little girl latched onto Lou, her magic practically swirling around the two as the frantic Lucy started to hyperventilate.

“Easy, Lucy,” Ed coached, automatically reaching to help. Lucy’s magic, sensing a threat, lashed out.

Afterwards, the team decided their team leader was _extraordinarily_ lucky that Parker chose that _exact_ moment to walk into the briefing room, coincidentally turning right to get to an unoccupied chair. Parker’s timing and location meant that, instead of being thrown into the poly-carbon panels that served as the briefing room’s wall, Ed slammed into his Sergeant; they were both thrown into the panels right behind Parker, but neither was badly injured.

Lucy shrank in pure terror, her magic swirling higher and her eyes starting to turn white. Jules, hearing the commotion, raced in, hurrying straight to Lucy. “Lucy, it’s okay,” she tried, reaching out and flinching as Lucy’s uncontrolled magic slapped her hand away.

Lou, trapped in the eye of the storm, forced down his own desire to panic and started to rub Lucy’s shoulders. White eyes lifted to him and he sternly repressed an automatic flinch; the look of her eyes was more than a little unnerving, even if he didn’t add in what her magic was doing. “Sorry, Lucy,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. “It seemed like you were calming down around Ed and Wordy, so we didn’t even _think_ about it. Just put you in the middle, right where we shouldn’t have.”

“Is he mad? Like Dadda?” Her whimper, whisper-soft under the sound of her magic whipping and whirling, was almost too soft to hear.

Lou glanced over at his teammates, unable to help his grimace at the stunned and dazed expressions on Ed and his Boss’s faces. Spike was outside the briefing room door, hastily running interference to keep the rest of the station from finding out about magic. The less-lethal specialist shifted back to Lucy. “Might be a little dazed right now,” he admitted, “But that’s _not_ your fault.”

“I threw him,” Lucy whimpered, sinking down. Around them, the wind picked up, threatening to start lifting the briefing room table. “I _hurt_ him.”

“Hey, look at me,” Lou coached, gently tipping Lucy’s chin up and refusing once more to flinch at her solid white eyes. “You were scared and you reacted. If anything, Ed’s going to be mad at _himself_ , for scaring you and not thinking before he acted.” He sighed, letting his own head hang just a little. “We’re all human, Lucy, and my teammates and I, we’re still figuring this whole magic thing out.”

The wind pulled back, curiosity sparking in Lucy’s white eyes. “You don’t know much about… _magic_?” The last word was whispered, as though Lucy was still trying to slot ‘magic’ in place of ‘demon power’.

Lou shook his head, sticking to the basics. “Sarge’s niece and nephew – you met them last night – they have magic, but none of us even knew magic existed until they came here to live with him.” He drew in a breath. “The man who brought you here last night; he’s a wizard and he brought you here because _he_ thought you’d do better with the world you’re used to, instead of getting thrown in the deep end of the magical world.”

The white was fading, slowly, ever so slowly shifting back to light brown; around the pair, the wind was dying as well. Lucy leaned her head against Lou’s chest, sniffling. “I want Danny,” she whimpered.

“Danny?” Lou questioned, cocking his head to the side.

“My little brother,” Lucy replied, her voice dull and her eyes almost fully back to brown. “Momma took him away; she said God was punishing me for being a devil child.”

Lou quashed the urge to get up and pace; instead, he stayed where he was and kept his arm around Lucy’s shoulders. When he was sure his voice was steady, he remarked, “Well, maybe we can find him for you, Lucy. And one other thing.” He waited for Lucy to peek up and added firmly, “You are _not_ a devil child, Lucy; you’re a little girl just like any other little girl.”

“He’s right, Lucy,” Jules picked up, slipping up right next to Lucy and Lou. “All I see – all _any_ of us see – is a little girl who needs a new home with a family that will love her like one of their own. You’ll get there, Lucy.”

“But-but what if I hurt someone?”

Ed limped around the table, his gaze intent as he joined the conversation. “Do you _want_ to hurt someone?”

“No!”

The constable shrugged and spread his hands. “Then you won’t. Simple as that.”

Lucy stared at him, eyes wide. She just thrown him at his friend without even touching him…she’d _hurt_ him and he wasn’t mad? And in the back of her mind, she began to understand: no matter what her parents said, she wasn’t a monster, wasn’t a demon. Demons and monsters didn’t cry…they didn’t care like _she_ did.


	5. Righteous Power

He had a lump on the back of his head and Eddie would be limping for the rest of the day, but as far as Greg Parker was concerned, they’d gotten off lightly. _On the ‘edge’ of being an Obscurial, huh?_ he grumbled to himself, _More like hanging_ off _the edge and not even holding on for dear life anymore._ For now, the crisis appeared to be over, thanks to Lou’s quick thinking and steady demeanor under fire – Greg wasn’t so sure _he_ could have hung onto his composure in the middle of a magical windstorm/Obscurus and in the face of Lucy’s eyes turning pure white.

In the meantime, Lucy had dropped _quite_ an interesting tidbit, one Greg planned on following up on; neither his _nipotes_ nor Auror Wilkins had mentioned a younger brother. The Sergeant headed for where Spike had set his laptop up and waited for his bomb tech to look up. “Spike, Lucy mentioned a ‘Danny’. I know I’ve had you looking into the parents, but anything about a Danny Keane?”

Spike shook his head, looking glum. “Nothing, Sarge. If they _do_ have another kid, he’s never been to school, never been to see a doctor, and doesn’t have so much as a birth certificate – I checked as soon as I got back here.”

Greg frowned, tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. “Lucy has no reason to lie…not about something like this at any rate.” Spike nodded vigorous agreement. “Spike, any missing persons reports for Lucy Keane or a male with a similar description?”

The keyboard clacked for a minute or two; Greg watched his bomb tech work, still juggling the puzzle pieces and trying to figure out where they fit. “Got something,” Spike crowed, drawing his boss around the table to peer over his shoulder. “Lucy Keane, reported missing by a neighbor lady and retired schoolteacher.”

“Name on the report?”

“Fiona Reddington,” Spike replied, pulling up another report before Greg could finish scanning the missing persons report. The bomb tech scanned the new report, blanching before he got halfway through.

“Spike?”

Swallowing harshly, Spike brought up a picture; Greg recoiled. It was an autopsy photo of a boy, younger than Lucy, and so obviously abused that Greg felt his stomach rebel; it took all of the negotiator’s willpower to keep the sudden nausea in check. What was even _worse_ was the fact that both Greg and Spike could see Lucy in the boy’s features. The longer the photo stayed on the screen, the paler Spike got; Greg gritted his teeth and reached over Spike’s shoulder to tap the laptop’s keyboard and close the image. Even then, Spike continued to pale until his boss forced the younger man’s head down and ordered, “Spike, breathe. Just breathe.” Two fingers slipped to the bomb tech’s pulse, rapid, but slowing along with his breathing. “That’s it, Spike,” Greg murmured.

Wordy materialized next to the pair, his expression worried. “Sarge?”

Greg angled his chin at the laptop and softly ordered, “Wordy, read off the autopsy report Spike found, but don’t pull up any of the photos.”

Confused, the brunet turned the laptop and tipped it so he could see the screen. The big man’s shoulders bunched as he skimmed the report and his jaw clenched so hard that Greg heard Wordy’s teeth grind. When Wordy spoke, each word was bitten off, the constable’s tone venomous. “Male, five years old, deep bruising present over entire body. Death caused by sepsis.”

The Sergeant nodded once, unsurprised when Wordy slammed the palm of one hand against the table. He waited for Wordy to get himself under a semblance of control, then murmured, “Spike also found a missing persons report for Lucy, filed by a neighbor.”

“You think they’re connected?” Wordy demanded, swinging around to face his coworkers.

“Yes,” Spike confirmed before Greg could. The tech straightened in his chair, looking embarrassed. “Thanks, Sarge.”

Greg shook his head. “This one is getting to all of us, Spike.” Not to mention the fact that looking after an abused child wasn’t something the SRU did on a regular basis. They simply weren’t trained in the best ways to handle crimes against children. Not beyond the basics that any cop learned. Greg stood, covertly using Spike’s chair as a convenient prop to get himself up. Reluctant, but determined, the Sergeant ordered, “Spike, print out both the missing persons report and the autopsy report. I’ll go over both of them, see if I can fit the pieces together.”

“What about the photos, Boss?”

Parker stiffened, staring at the table, then let his breath out. “Leave them, Spike. I’d rather not accidentally set Lucy off again.”

“Copy that,” Wordy muttered, in complete agreement with his boss.

* * * * *

Ed took advantage of being in the workout room to check his ankle; he was pretty sure he’d twisted it when Lucy had thrown him into Greg, but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t any worse than that. The team leader wasn’t surprised when Lou appeared with the locker room’s first aid kit; the less-lethal specialist was shaken, even if he was hiding it well.

“Thanks,” Ed murmured as Lou wrapped the ankle, protecting it from further harm.

“No problem,” Lou replied, not looking up.

“Lou, if you’re beating yourself up, don’t. _I’m_ the idiot who forgot Lucy was afraid of me ‘n’ Wordy. _You’re_ the one who talked her down.”

“Doesn’t feel like enough,” Lou mumbled, still not looking up.

The team leader sighed, letting his eyes trail out of the briefing room. “Never does,” he observed. “You know, I remember when Wordy found out a friend of his was being abused; he hit the roof and when he was done ranting and raving at me about the situation, he got his friend out of there.” It had been a _lot_ more complicated than that, of course, but that had been the gist of the situation.

“How’s his friend doing now?” Lou asked, determinedly focused on the last of the wrapping.

“Oh, his friend is fine now,” Ed replied, hiding his grin. “Took a lot of work; a lot of sweat and a lot of tears, but you know Wordy. He never gave up, never let his friend go back into that situation. Nowadays, you’d never be able to tell his friend went through all that.” The team leader tilted his head at the briefing room. “You talked her down in there, Lou; you and Jules both did. Right now, there’s not much difference, but there’s _some_.”

“That’s what’s important,” Lou realized, glancing up. “A little bit at a time.” The tan-skinned constable fidgeted, putting the first aid supplies away. “Are we in over our heads with this whole magic thing, Ed?”

_Probably._ Ed drew in a breath, considering. Then he let it out, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Lou, but I’m not ready for the alternative, either.”

Lou cringed, remembering what the alternative _was_. “Copy that,” he agreed. “I’ll take this stuff back to the locker room.”

As Lou trudged out of the workout room, Ed’s attention was caught by a couple who’d just approached the front desk, both of them looking rather frantic about…something. Curiosity sparked and Ed tested his weight on his strapped ankle before slipping out of the workout room to take a closer look.

From the rear, their dispatcher, Sally, didn’t look all that impressed with the couple. Ed drew close enough to hear the discussion to hear her say, “…file a report with your local precinct. If your attackers come back, call 911.”

“You don’t understand,” the woman wailed. “They’re not ordinary. The way they just _appeared_ , it was like magic. You have to protect us from them.”

Sally snorted, but Ed’s ears pricked. “Well,” Sally drawled, making it clear she didn’t believe their story in the _slightest_ , “I suppose you could request more patrols of your neighborhood at your local precinct, but this is the Strategic Response Unit, ma’am.”

Before Sally could politely explain why the Strategic Response Unit didn’t handle more…ordinary…crimes, the man leaned over the desk, his eyes dark with fury. “If you think you can _fool_ me, _witch_ , you’ve another thing coming. It’s bad enough that people like _you_ taint our children, now you taint our police?”

Ed moved, getting between the angry man and his stunned dispatcher. “I’d like you to think about what you’re doing, sir, and take a step back,” he growled, making it clear any attempts to get to Sally meant going _through_ him. Without taking his eyes off the man, he asked, “Sally?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Sally replied, though she sounded a touch shaken.

“All right, then,” Ed decided, shifting his outward expression to polite interest. “Sir, ma’am, perhaps you could explain what brought you in today?”

“And let’s start with your names,” Greg opined from the side, his black binder and a pen in hand; Ed nearly smirked at his Sergeant’s ability to sniff out a conflict despite having been in one of the conference rooms deeper into the station, puzzling over the two reports Spike had found, the last time Ed checked.

The man was seething, so his wife spoke. “Judy Keane,” she offered up sullenly. “This is my husband, John.” Her eyes flashed angrily. “Yesterday, we were sitting down to a late lunch when _they_ knocked on the door. Came right in, with not so much as an invitation, and made themselves right at home.”

“And what did these people want?” Ed questioned, noting to himself that John Keane was almost the same height as he was, with vaguely similar facial structure and scruffy hair that was ironically the same shade as Wordy’s. Judy Keane, on the other hand, sported dark red hair nearly identical to Lucy’s now that Jules had washed all the dirt and grime out of the little girl’s dark locks. Both of them looked as if they’d bitten into lemons and let their faces freeze in that expression.

John broke into the conversation. “I’ll tell you what _they_ wanted; _they_ wanted to ruin our lives with all their witchcraft and devil worship. I won’t have it, I won’t. Not under _my_ roof.”

Blandly, with nary a hint of concern, Greg inquired, “You have kids?”

Hesitation, just long enough that all three cops knew the truth even as the man lied. “No,” he growled, though his hands curled into fists and shook.

Greg inclined his head and made a show of flipping to the next page in his binder. “And your residence is where, sir?” Judy supplied the address, which Greg dutifully wrote down before flipping through his binder. The air seemed to shiver, like the instant before a lightning strike. “No kids, you said?”

“None,” Judy confirmed.

“Well, that’s very interesting,” Greg remarked, looking up, “Especially considering a neighbor of yours filed a missing persons report this morning for your daughter.”

The air chilled; Ed was surprised the atrium didn’t erupt in spontaneous frost with how fast the temperature dropped.

And Greg was just getting started. “What’s even _more_ interesting, from my perspective, is the John Doe who turned up less than a week ago; he has a _stunning_ resemblance to both of you, as well as your daughter.”

_What?_ Ed looked between the wide-eyed couple and his boss, shocked by the bombshell Greg had just dropped – and even _more_ shocked by the rage in Greg’s eyes.

Sergeant Parker made a discrete hand motion and Wordy materialized at his back, glowering. “Constable Wordsworth, Constable Lane, arrest these two.”

“On what grounds?” John Keane burst out as Ed and Wordy swooped down, cuffs in hand.

The Sergeant’s rage blazed for an instant before the experienced negotiator clamped down on it again. “You are under arrest for child abuse,” he grated out. “As well as suspicions of criminal neglect.” Striding forward, he let his voice drop down so none but the couple and the two constables could hear him. “Your _son_ died because neither of you could be bothered to take him to the hospital when his injuries became infected. And your daughter will likely spend the rest of her life struggling to control the magic _you_ taught her to hate and fear.” Raising his voice again, Parker added, “Take them to an interview room and show them the pictures from the autopsy report Constable Scarlatti located.”

“Copy that, Sarge,” Wordy acknowledged, hauling a furiously struggling John Keane away.

“It’s tainted,” the man howled. “It’s things no _decent_ person should meddle with!”

“You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay,” Wordy snarled, hauling his captive faster down the hall and resisting the urge to tell the man to shut up.

Keane fought harder, forcing Ed to halt and Wordy to lever the arrestee to the ground, using his size and leverage to end the struggling. “It’s evil; darkness without end.”

“She’s a little girl,” Ed countered angrily. “A little girl who trusted you to do right by her!”

* * * * *

In the atrium, silence hung as Wordy and Ed hauled the two parents out of sight and earshot. Greg kept his breathing steady and allowed the rage to filter out of his system. “Sir?” Sally asked tentatively.

“Yes, Sally?”

“He-he didn’t misspeak, did he?” At the Sergeant’s questioning look, she flushed and added, “He really _did_ mean to call me a witch, didn’t he?”

Ah… _that_. Greg sighed, running one hand over his head and through what was left of his hair, restraining a wince as he touched the lump on the back of his head. “Yes, I think he did, Sally,” he confirmed sadly. His eyes flicked to the hallway and he felt safe enough to share the rest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if, for some reason, they thought their children had magic.”

A strangled, “Sergeant?” came from behind and Greg twisted to see Auror Wilkins.

Rather than pause and leave a clue Sally could follow up on, Greg kept going. “Good afternoon, Inspector Wilkins. I’m afraid you just missed the show; Lucy Keane’s parents showed up to file a report about a group of…” Now he did pause, looking over at Sally, “How did they put it, Sally?”

Sally picked up the baton smoothly. “They claimed a group of witches invaded their home and insisted on ‘involving them in a ritual of witchcraft and devil worship’. I was advising them to file their report with their local precinct when Mr. Keane threatened me and Constable Lane stepped in.”

Auror Wilkins stiffened, looking over Sally. “Are you all right?”

Sally gave him a smile. “I’m fine, Inspector. Constable Lane kept things from escalating any further.”

“Perhaps we can discuss this elsewhere, Inspector Wilkins?” Greg proposed.

“Certainly,” Auror Wilkins agreed, falling into step as Greg headed for the hallway, pausing long enough to stick his head into the workout room and summon Spike and Lou.

Greg glanced over at Auror Wilkins as they walked. “Jules is with Lucy Keane right now, so I’ll bring her up to speed later on, but Spike dug up a few things.”

They arrived at the interview rooms in time to see Ed and Wordy leaving one of the rooms, tired looks on their faces. “They confirmed it, Sarge,” Wordy reported, sorrow flashing across his features.

“Confirmed what?” Auror Wilkins questioned.

Instead of answering, Greg pushed the door to the next interview room open and gestured his team and Auror Wilkins inside. “Wordy, show Inspector Wilkins,” he ordered quietly once the door was shut.

Wordy dropped the photos as well as the autopsy report Spike had found on the table and nudged them towards Auror Wilkins. “They confirmed the name, too, Sarge,” the brunet remarked sourly. “Danny Keane. Born at home, no birth certificate. My guess, by the time he was born, Lucy had already started showing her _talents_ and they decided if she had them, then Danny had them, too.”

Auror Wilkins nearly choked as he saw the pictures and skimmed the report. In a small, hoarse voice, he asked, “You can tie them to this?”

“If we can get documentation of Lucy’s injuries, then the prosecutor should be able to make a case for extreme neglect and abuse, leading to death by malnutrition and infection.” Greg spoke matter-of-factly, not allowing so much as a hint of his rage into his voice.

“And you would do that?” Auror Wilkins questioned, glancing up at them. “You would turn on two of your own like this?”

Greg overrode the angry growls of his team with a sharp ‘stand down’ gesture. Turning towards Wilkins, he slammed both hands on the metal table, smiling grimly when Wilkins jumped. “Let’s get one thing straight right out of the gate, _Inspector_. Those two are _not_ ‘our own’. They might be from our side of the fence, but that does _not_ mean _we_ have _any_ loyalty towards individuals who believe it’s perfectly fine to _abuse_ their own children, _regardless_ of the reason.”

With Wilkins sufficiently cowed, he continued briskly, “Now, Lucy Keane’s issues are two-fold. First of all, her parents _have_ taught her to be afraid of her talents, just as you suspected. But she _also_ happens to have a deep-seated fear of men, which is likely going to be the larger obstacle. Whatever family she ends up with is going to have to accept that it will be a long time before she’s comfortable around the man of the house. It may _never_ happen, Inspector.”

Wilkins’ eyes darted between the men of Team One. “Will she always fear her talents?”

“We don’t know,” Wordy spoke up, shrugging. “She might, she might not. But don’t let her get away with calling it demon power or calling herself a devil child.”

“Don’t scare her,” Ed put in. “Or she’ll probably toss you into the nearest wall.”

Alarm blazed. “She’s _that_ close?”

“Yes,” Spike and Lou replied together.

“One last thing,” Greg rumbled. “We haven’t told her about Danny yet. We didn’t have confirmation and we didn’t want that confirmation to come from _her_.”

The Auror swallowed hard, for once, not even a little bit arrogant. “Understood, Sergeant Parker.” A faint smile showed. “We’ll make sure she’s available for any court dates. It might even help, to see her parents finally get punished.” Wilkins ducked his head, looking sheepish, but, in the end, did not apologize to Team One. “I’d, I’d like to see her and take her to get settled with her new family,” he remarked instead.

* * * * *

Lucy hugged Jules hard, wishing she could stay with the pretty, nice woman. “I’ll always remember you,” she promised.

“Ditto,” Jules teased, smiling down at the young girl. “Remember Lucy, the only way you can go from here is up.”

“I’ll remember.” Lucy was about to step back and go with the man from the Aurora Division, but stopped, biting her lip as she looked over at the tall man she’d accidentally hurt. Miss Fiona had always told her that if she hurt someone, she should apologize and try to make things better. So Lucy forced herself to walk over to the man, flinching as he crouched to be at her level. “I’m sorry,” she offered up, not looking at him.

She was surprised when he chuckled. “Hey, could have been worse,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it, Lucy.”

Lucy looked up, startled to realize his eyes were _nothing_ like Dadda’s. Without thinking, she reached out and lightly touched his injured ankle. No words were spoken, but the power within her hummed, rising to her defense, only to pause as it absorbed her wish. A flurry of silver wind danced around the injured ankle for an instant, then drew back, smug and content. “All better now,” Lucy whispered, almost to herself.

The little girl drew back and walked to Aurora Wilkins. He held one hand out and she took it, looking up at him and pretending she was as courageous as Miss Jules. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded and led her out of the police station. Just as she’d promised, Lucy didn’t look back.

* * * * *

Ed found himself in a briefing room chair as soon as Lucy and Wilkins were gone. Lou undid the wrapping he done just hours earlier and the entire team froze at the sight of Ed’s twisted ankle…or rather, his _formerly_ twisted ankle.

“She healed it,” Lou breathed, looking up and past the door.

The Boss smiled, a touch of victory in his eyes. “Pretty impressive for a girl who’s still afraid of her magic.”

“Darn,” Ed drawled, “There goes my excuse to take tomorrow off.”

Snickers rose; all of them knew how rarely Ed took days off.

Mischief danced in Greg’s eyes. “Well, Eddie, if you _really_ want a day off, I guess we can muddle through.”

Ed stiffened, then relaxed at the teasing look in his boss’s eyes. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Wonder if we’ll see her again,” Jules mused wistfully.

“Maybe someday, Jules,” Wordy remarked, though his eyes were a little sad. He shook off the sorrow and added, in Ed’s direction, “And don’t think this is getting you out of that two-on-two tournament coming up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ed shot back, pulling his boot back on.

“All right, all right,” the Boss stepped in. “Let’s hit the locker rooms and head home. Wordy, you can drag Eddie out for practice _tomorrow_ night, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ed protested.

“Eddie, you got thrown into me and twisted your ankle today. Let’s not push it.” Greg looked his team over. “Good work, all of you.”

It took a minute, but soon enough, Greg was alone in the briefing room. Well aware that Eddie wasn’t about to let him linger too long, the Sergeant took a moment to consider the past day as he gazed out the briefing room door. “You’ll be all right,” he whispered to the absent Lucy. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

 

_~ Fin_


End file.
